


Wayward Stars

by CottonClover



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alice in Wonderland Elements, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Cinderella Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fractured Fairy Tale, Goldilocks and the Three Bears Elements, Knight!Tom, Love Flute Elements, M/M, Rapunzel Elements, Red Riding Hood Elements, Rose Red and Snow White Elements, Rumplestiltskin Elements, Side Relationships - Freeform, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Snow White Elements, The Glass Coffin Elements, The Golden Stag Elements, prince!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2788028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CottonClover/pseuds/CottonClover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A marriage contract was formed between the newborn heir to the Gryffindor Throne and the youngest heir of the Slytherin line in the days leading up to the birth of the young prince. </p><p>Tomas Riddle only met the babe once, on the eve he was born. While the young Slythern knew not what love was, he knew that he cared for the child held in his arms; he would not let a soul bring the child harm. </p><p>Even if it took an eternity until they found each other again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When you Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer :: If I was J.K. then I'd have had Tom and Harry hook up in book two. Did that happen? No, therefore I'm not J.K. Rowling, nor do I own Harry Potter. I also have no claim to the fairy/folk tales I am referencing in this piece
> 
> Warning :: No beta  
> 

His earliest memory was of a gentle hand caressing his head. Small soft fingers, waving through his dark brown locks; eyes, that held an ocean of warmth observing him, as he lay softly in their arms; a small, secret smile lying upon their rosy lips, as he nuzzled into the warmth of the blankets that were delicately swaddled around his small form. “Though we part until the morrow, we shall meet again.” Their voice, like silk, slipped into his ears, just before a soft kiss was placed to the crown of his head.

It was a precious memory. Something Harridan cherished more than all else in the world. More than the small locket that held the only images he had of his parents; more than the ring his father had left him, which hung against the locket, too big for his small fingers.

That memory alone, chased away the nightmares that haunted him in the dark of the night, comforted him when he felt alone, held him in its embrace as he fought tears during the beatings that happened daily, and placed soft kisses upon his head when he felt as though there was no point in continuing onward. That memory, was his reason for existing.

**• • •**

“Boy, my shoes are filthy!” A heavy pair of work boots was thrown onto the clean counter beside a small boy, no older than seven, by a large whale of a man. The small child jumped at the sudden jolt the counter gave at the weight of the filth-covered shoes. “Make sure they shine or you’ll receive ten lashes tonight.”

“Yes sir,” the child spoke softly. The quicker he became invisible to his uncles eyes, the better. Vernon gave the boy a grunt of acknowledgement before leaving.

Harridan was quite efficient at his job: be quick, and be thorough to avoid the belt. He had learned that lesson from the moment he was able to walk.

It took an hour for his small, worn hands to shine the brown shoes back to their former glory, and another two to get dinner prepared. On his own, Harridan dressed the table, laid out the dinning wear, and began to bring out the heavy treys of food. Setting out the pheasant last, Harridan glanced at it in longing, knowing he would never see a morsel of it.

The table held enough food to feed seven, yet there would only be four dining that night, the Lord and Lady of the house of Dursley, Vernon and Petunia, the lord’s sister, Marge, and their only son, Dudley. Alongside the stuffed pheasant sat the rolls that the seven year old had crafted from scratch that morning, several meat pies, as well as a variety of greens and desserts. All made by the small hands that would never see a crumb of it touch his tongue.

Dutifully, Harridan walked to the sitting room and announced that dinner was ready. He graciously scurried to each door and held it open for his Lord’s family. Never once did the boy complain. Not when his foot was stepped on by the Lord, nor when the Ladies snapped at him for not pulling their chairs out quickly enough, and most defiantly not when the young lord smacked him upside the head for not pouring his drink quick enough.

Shaking hands pulled the bottle of wine away from the glass when he was hit, causing wine to spill onto the young lord’s trousers. Harridan froze when he heard Dudley’s outrage at his slip. He knew he would get it now, he had tried to avoid a lashing; his back wasn’t even healed from the one he had received the previous week.

“Boy!” Harridan flinched, “Outside. Now.” The words were curt, final. Harridan nodded and walked from the house.

His eyes immediately trained in on the tree standing tall in the corner of the yard, just a few feet away from the home. It was as beaten and worn as the small child’s back, from the Dursley’s previous ‘unruly’ servants. The small child slowly approached the tree, and ran his hand along the scarring marks left from each time the belt had missed its intended target. He paused his wandering thoughts.

Knowing it wouldn’t be long until Vernon appeared to punish him, Harridan prepared himself. He removed the shirt that was far too large for him, folded it carefully, and set it to the side; he then hugged his arms tightly around the tree, his hands gripping to the bark that jut out. He knew if he wasn’t ready then it would only make things worse on himself, yet the humiliation of having to stand in the cold evening air with his scarred and scabbed back showing to all who looked his way was nearly worse.

Harridan hated looking at his own body, it was littered with too many scars to count; his bones jut out at unnatural places due to his thin, underfed body. Harridan knew he would never be found attractive when he grew older. No one would care for a servant.

_“Though we part until the morrow, we shall meet again.”_

Squinting his eyes closed to push back the tears, Harridan stole himself against what he knew what was to come. He let the words of the one who had once held him so tenderly calm him, but didn’t let it make him emotional. If he showed any sign of weakness it would only make things worse.

When Vernon finally left the house Harridan was ready for him: ready for each lash as it dug into his soft flesh, ready for the blood that dripped down each new gash and stained his trousers, ready for the pain that would come soon after his nervous system realized his body was being attacked. He refused to scream, biting his lip with each lash until his chin became red from the blood he drew. Vernon got off on the amount of pain he could cause. If he didn’t react it would be over quicker.

Vernon didn’t gain a reaction until he missed one lash and struck the boy’s arm, drawing an instant scream. Harridan was ready for the assault on his torso, not his extremities. With a smirk the whale of a man struck out harder. Unable to brace himself for each hit, or regain his composure, Harridan was moaning in pain at each strike. It seemed to go on forever; the boy thought his legs might give out on him.

“Vernon! Enough! He still has to do the dishes tonight.” Scolded Petunia; looking crossly at her husband. Since the man had killed the last servant it left only the small boy to do all of the chores. Harridan knew it wasn’t out of pity that she stopped him. She merely didn’t want her husband to make their only servant unable to do his job.

Vernon did recede, but not until a final lash crossed the boys back from the willow branch. He then threw the branch to the side of the tree and ordered the boy to get cleaned up and to finish cleaning after they finished their meal before he could sleep. Harridan ducked his head and hurried inside.

That night as he lay on his bed of hay outside in the barn, Harridan prayed to the stars, that one day soon, the person who spoke to him tenderly, and held him safe in their arms, would return to him. He prayed that they would take him away from the Dursleys and that he would be happy.

Far above the child, a star flew across the sky. Sending the message for the child who could not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it's the first piece that I have ever put on AO3.  
> I haven't written fan fiction in many years, but this idea just struck me as fun and quirky.  
> I'm not sure if I will continue it, as many have found what I write to be lacking, but if enough people find it a worthwhile read, I'll keep on with it. If I do, I'll give you all this warning, this will be the shortest of all the chapters.
> 
> I'd also like to wish Tom Riddle a happy birthday.


	2. Falling Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the previous chapter, which plays upon the classic fairy tale idea of "Wishing upon a star,” this chapter begins my twist on the old classic tale, Snow White and Rose Red. If you haven't read this tale, then you definitely should, it's pretty short, and adorably quirky. It can be found on the net, or in one of the Grimm's books, as tale number 161.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer :: If I was J.K. Harry wouldn't have gotten together with Ginny, without a lot more character development between the two. Also I make no claim on the fairy tales/folktales that are inspiring this fanfiction.
> 
> Warning :: No Beta
> 
> Also as a note :: I’m planning on writing many of these chapters based on the original tales, not based on the Disney adaptations. Though there may be some Disney-esque magic thrown in, the primary base will be from the original tales.

When winter’s blanket had embraced the land, Harridan’s hands shook more often than not from the cutting of firewood. Occasionally, he managed to sneak the smaller blocks back to the barn. It was one of the few pleasantries he was able to obtain. Though the barn was drafty, the hay made a soft bed, isolated well enough from the cold when put into piles, and in the fire light, it transformed the barn into sea of gold.

Though Harridan knew it was dangerous, not only to his safety and that of the barn, he, on occasion, found himself falling asleep to the gentle crackling of the fire. On one such night he was roused by the sound of knocking on the barn’s door. Rubbing his eyes with one hand as he stirred, he pushed himself to his feet with the other, and made his way to the door.

Opening it, the boy found himself face-to-face with a large bear. He froze, unsure whether to yell for help, or to slam the door shut and bolt it. Before he could react however, the bear was gently nudging the boy aside door with its nose and entered the barn, shutting the door, when it realized that the boy was in shock.

To say Harridan was stunned was to say the least. His green eyes followed the bear as it walked over to his little nest by the fire, and made itself comfortable enough to lay down on what was Harridan’s bed.

Snapping from his stupor, Harridan found his voice. “Were you looking for shelter from the cold?” he asked the bear, half expecting it to attack him. Yet, the animal was seemingly ignoring him, instead it was busy trying to shake the last dusting of snow that was lingering on its fur.

Cautiously the young boy approached the fire and sat across from the bear, on the other side of the flames. “So, I take it that was a yes?” he asked quietly. The bear watched the boy out of the corner of its eye. Harridan wondered just how much intelligence that those blue eyes held. It was then that his brain caught up with the rest of him. Bears didn’t have blue eyes, they were normally an amber or brown, nor were they awake during the winter. “You’re a strange bear aren’t you?” For a flashing second he thought the bear was analyzing him with the intensity of the look it was giving him. “You can stay the night if you want… but only if you promise not to eat me alright?” He could have sworn the bear had nodded when he heard a grunt come from it.

Harridan arranged the hay around himself with care, as the bear had taken his normal bed, and settled down to go to sleep. “Just make sure you’re gone before Lord Dursley and the young lord come out in the morning. I don’t think they’ll take it kindly that I have a bear in the barn. They might try to make you into a new trophy rug if they see you.” He spoke with a yawn before falling asleep in the light of the fire.

• • •

That night, the boy’s sleep was fitful; he tossed and turned with nightmares filling his head. The bear watched him intently throughout the first few fits. It observed that he had thrown most of the blanket of hay from his body as the fire died down to nothing more than sparking embers. His body was shivering and shaking violently, from the cold and fear. It was a heart wrenching sight to behold. Heaving its heavy body to its feet the bear padded over to the boy and lay back down, its body curled around the smaller one.

The child curled into the warmth the bear provided as his small frame was once more covered in hay that the bear nudged over his body. With the comfort of the other body, his brown hair mingling with the black fur, the boy settled into a comforting sleep. Dreaming of a boy with hair as black as night, and eyes like the sea, filled with warmth and kindness, dreaming of fingers tracing through his hair, and a smile meant just for him.

• • •

When Harridan awoke the next morning, the bear was nowhere to be found. It was for the best though, as strange as the bear was, and despite how unnerving it was to be near such a large wild creature, Harridan knew that Vernon would kill the bear if he saw it.

He would miss the creature, if he had to admit it to himself. It had been comforting to know there was another being with him, to keep him company through the night. He had never once had that, a companion, a friend. It was almost nice, even if it had been from a wild animal. There had once been other servants, but they ignored him for the most part. The only help he ever received came from one, Arabella Figg, who had taught in what she knew so that he could serve without being beaten as often as he did in his early years. Yet, even she only cared for his proficiency, and not his well-being, she cared more for the cats that visited the field to catch rats than she did for him.

Instead of letting his mind linger on what was lost, he turned his mind back to what was needed to be done. The bear would fall to the back of his mind, like a passing dream.

Quickly he went to the well to fetch water, then returned to the house to begin making bread. He fetched eggs from the hen house, and paid the fifteen coins to the delivery girl who brought the weeks’ worth of vegetables and milk, and set to work. The sun was barely kissing the sky when Harridan went upstairs to wake the Lord and his heir.

Each day doing that was perilous affair. If one of them woke in a foul mood, it would be Harridan who would take the brunt of the blame. If they woke in a good mood, then he had to ensure that nothing he did spoiled it. If they came back empty handed from hunting, then they were less likely to take it out on him, than if he had done something out of the ordinary, or burnt some of the food.

Today they seemed pleasant enough and went about their business without causing him too much trouble. The ladies however were in a horrible mood. Lady Petunia complained because he wasn’t strong enough to help her get her corset tight enough, and Lady Marge was outraged by a small bit of mud that he had missed cleaning on the floor, from Dudley marching inside with mud on his boots. She had dragged him to the mud by his ear and had him re-scrub the floors with a tooth brush. All the while she threatened sending the hunting hounds after him.

By the time that he was done for the day, Harridan was exhausted, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed and pretend that he didn’t exist for a few hours, like he had been told numerous times by the Dursley’s.

He sat by the fire that night until the stars shone brightly in the sky above the barn, listening to the sounds of the world around him, pretending that he was just the ear of the world, that his only reason for being was to see and hear it’s beauty. He listened to the creaking of the wood against the elements, watched the sparks of the fire flicker and spark, and watched as the hay rustled in the slight breeze that slipped through the walls; he reached out and listened to the sounds of the wilds, he could hear the animals running happily through the woods behind the barn, and the tree branches bushing against one another.

So tuned out from his surroundings, the boy was startled back to his body by the knocking of the barn door. He turned his head from where he lay and looked to the door, almost thinking he was hearing things that weren’t real. Then it came again, a second rapping, and Harridan was on his feet walking to the door.

Opening it just a crack he saw that the large black bear with blue eyes had come to visit him again. Though he was still wary of the animal he greeted it politely, “Umm… Hello again.” The bear paid the boy no mind, and nudged the door with its nose to be let in. “Just a sec,” Harridan replied, and the bear backed up so that the boy could open the door, then shut it behind him after he had entered into the barn.

The two made their way to the back of the barn, passed the horse stables and animal pens, and up onto the small wooden level that kept the hay dry from the damp ground. The two nestled themselves into the small little nest built of the hay, just as they had the previous eve, the bear on Harridan’s bed, and Harridan on his new one, closer to the wall of the barn. “I suppose being a bear this time of year is hard isn’t it?” He asked, “Unless you find yourself a nice cave, you probably don’t have anywhere that you can sleep of the winter.” Though the bear didn’t respond to him, other than the occasional strange looks at something he mentioned, or a rather heavy exhale, that sounded like a confirmation of some sort to what he said, Harridan was enjoying the conversation they shared. He tried to think up something that the bear would likely say in response, and giggled at the affronted looks he got from the bear. Between the two of them, he could pretend that he understood the animal, and that the animal understood him. He made-believe that the two of them were friends.

When the boy began yawning the bear got to his feet, Harridan gave him a questioning look, as the bear moved over to his side of the fire and curled up around him. Harridan did his best not to move, in case the bear decided now was a good time to eat him up, or to sit on him for being too noisy. Instead however, the bear coaxed the boy onto his form and covered him the best he could with hay. “I suppose it is about time we got to bed,” he yawned, falling asleep, feeling oddly secure against the bear.

• • •

Before dawn was close to breaking a soft shaking brought the sleepy boy two attention. He looked up to see blue eyes looking down at him. Harridan was startled at first, but then relaxed as he recognized his new friend. “Morning.” He mumbled cuddling into his soft mattress. A cold nose nuzzled against his cheek, making the boy’s fuzzy mind snap to attention. His body shivered from the sudden contact to the cold. He quickly rolled away from the source of the cold, to find himself rolling off of the bear. A bright laugh escaped his lips. “Well that’s one way to wake up in the morning.”

He got to his feet and made his way to the door to unlock it for his friend. He waved to the bear as it walked away, and after shutting the barn again, he made his way to the house to begin his day.

• • •

The bear had returned again that eve while Harridan sat by the kindling fire. Harridan happily greeted his friend, that eve, the eve after that, and well into the yuletide season. The boy was happy to have the company. Even if the bear was just using this as a form of shelter for the winter, he was still happy to have the bear at his side. And if he were to just sit and pretend that his friend would stay with him forever, that his friend would fight off his loneliness, and chase away his nightmares, then he was happy to live in that delusion, if only for the winter.

• • •

Trudging out of the Dursley’s home in the dark of the night, Harridan was barely paying attention to where he was going, only focusing on the barn, when he came into contact with a large furry mass that jerked away as soon as it was touched. He blinked a moment, his eyes still adjusting to his surroundings.

There, in the black of the night, stood his friend looking at him in what Harridan could only think of as concern. “Hello again, sorry I’m late tonight.” Harridan greeted, his breath coming in strangled gulps from being both startled and exhausted. His friend greeted him by bumping his head against Harridan’s side for a moment, only to see the boy stagger and fall to the ground, gently cradling his stomach in pain. Then it was gone, the boy hid the pain and got to his feet. “Sorry, I’m just a bit tender today.”

The bear replied with a slight whine, his paw resting against the barn door, his head gesturing for the boy to open it. A slight smile spread on the boy’s lips, “alright, alright, I’ll let you in,” he spoke as he moved to the door, “we’ll warm up together then?” The door was wrenched open with a bit of difficulty from the strong winter winds and blowing snow. “There we are.” He said satisfied that he got it open. The bear hurried inside, followed by the boy.

Harridan watched as the bear sat by the fire pit, waiting for Harridan to light it. The boy chuckled inwardly at the memory of the bear whining for his help. He got the door closed, and locked it tight, so the winds, or passing travelers couldn’t get it open during the night before walking over to the fire pit.

“Now don’t tell Lord Dursley where my hiding spot is.” He joked towards the bear before digging a dry log out of the pile of hay that was midway between the wall of the barn, and the last one towards the entryway. That pile kept it dry from the snow, and far enough away that the Dursleys were less likely to find it if they ever went over to his part of the barn.

Setting the log in the middle of his little fire pit Harridan gave a conspiratorial look around the barn, worried that someone would see him. His eyes went back to the bear, “I’ll share another secret with you okay? But you have to promise not to tell anyone.” He took another glance towards the door. “Especially not any of the Dursleys, or I’ll get in big trouble, alright?” He wasn’t expecting a response from the bear, but the loud sound of the bear exhaling roughly through his nose, was enough of one in the child’s eyes.

Harridan sat down next to the fire pit and stared at the log intently. “Don’t be scared okay?” he remarked, his gaze not leaving the log. He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes before shakily putting his right hand up, palm towards the log. With one more deep breath in, he exhaled, opening his eyes. In that instance the flames roared to life from the little log.

A glance towards the bear, made Harridan wonder if it was just a trick of the light, but the bears eyes seemed to be wide, bright and alive at the sight. He had expected the animal to be startled and back away from the flames in fear of the sudden fire, but he seemed calm, surprised, but calm.

Harridan shook his head and looked towards the fire. “If the Dursley’s knew that I could do things like that, I’d be dead for sure.” With a despondent sigh he continued talking, as if the bear wasn’t there. “They say normal people aren’t supposed to do freakish things like I do. If they knew this, I’d be called a witch and the priest would try to kill me, like they did the others they caught.”

“Normal people can’t do what you just did.”

Harridan’s eyes grew wide, his head snapped over to where the bear sat. “Who said that?” He quickly got to his feet, assuming that someone had slipped into the barn and saw what he did. The bear however remained calm, and looked curiously at the boy.

“I did.” He said calmly, “Sit back, down, you have no reason to be upset.”

Harridan felt his heart beginning to pound erratically in his chest, not reassured in the least. “You just spoke.”

“That I did.” 

“But bears can’t talk.”

“I am not a normal bear.” The tone the bear took, seemed torn between amused and annoyed, “Now why don’t you sit down by the fire and warm yourself up? It seems we have much to discuss.”

Starring the bear down for a moment Harridan conceded and took a seat by the fire, deciding it was better to be confused than cold. The two remained in an uneasy silence, until Harridan couldn’t handle the questions bubbling inside him any longer.

“How long have you been able to do that? Talk, I mean.” He flushed in embarrassment as he clarified himself. His eyes shifted back to the fire.

“I’ve always been able to talk. Not accounting for when I was a baby I suppose.”

“Then why didn’t you?” His eyes shifted to the fire as he tilted his head toward the bear. His pale face had an amber glow as it reflected the light of the fire.

“I didn’t want to.” The bear pierced Harridan with his gaze, “ _Normal people_ ,” He stressed the words, “aren’t supposed to know that I can talk.”

“Why can’t they?” he asked trying to gain some form understanding.

The bear lowered his voice, as if he expected someone to be listening in, “What _you_ are, what _I_ am. They aren’t things that _normal people_ like the Dursleys would approve of.”

Harridan paled a bit, but still scooted closer so that he could hear the bear better, “What are we?” he asked in a shaky voice. He knew that he wasn’t normal, he had known as long as he lived that he wasn’t like his Lord’s family. They seemed to know it too. They did everything they could to rub it in his face that he was different. That he was a freak, an outcast; that his own parents didn’t even care enough about him as they gave him up to be a servant as a baby.

“Some call us mages, some know us as wizards, and others as warlocks or witches. No matter the name, it means one thing, we are those who can wield magic.”

All of the color had drained from the boy’s face. It did make sense, all of the strange things that Harridan had done in the past: the time he made a heavy tray float to the table when he couldn’t lift it, the time that the young lord had been having the dogs chase him for practice and he somehow ended up on top of the roof of the barn. He wanted to believe it but, it was blasphemy, witchcraft, it was evil. He wasn’t evil, was he? “B-but witchcraft is evil, it’s the work of the devil.” The bear look affronted by that comment.

“It most certainly is not! It is the work of the natural world. Would you say that a bird flying is the work of the devil just because _you_ couldn’t do it?”

“Well no-” Harridan began only to be cut off by the bear.

“Then don’t think such things about magic. _Normal people_ such as the Dursley’s and the Catholic church think it is evil because they cannot fathom how it works, because they are jealous and envious to know that it is possible to do the impossible. To be able to wield the power that you and I have – to know that there are those out there who can change everything they know of the world, what we have the potential for – it scares their feeble minds.”

Harridan swallowed hard, it was true and everything his friend said was hitting home, but then again, could he trust what he said? Could his friend be a devil, here to test him? “How do you know all of this? You’re just a bear.” If it was possible for a bear to look bitter, then that was what the bear looked like Harridan decided.

“That, is a tale for another day.” The bear settled down and got comfortable. “For now, come and lay down. We can talk more about this tomorrow night.”

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” His tone was firm for but a moment, then melted to a softer one, “I promise.”

Harridan finally conceded and went to the bear, curling up against him. “Can I ask one thing though?” He asked as sleep began to claim him.

It felt as though the silence stretched on forever before the bear relented, “Alright, one thing,” he spoke gently, trying to lull the boy to sleep before it got so late that the dawn approached and the boy had to go to work without a bit of rest.

“What’s your name?” It was such an innocent question; those big green eyes looking up at him held such wonder, sealed behind them, as well as a bit of hesitance that the bear chose to ignore.

“My name is Tomas. However, you may call me Tom.” He answered with warmth in his voice.

“Mine’s Harridan. I don’t have anything shorter you can call me.” Harridan felt the bear nuzzle his head against him, and nuzzled back the best he could.

“How about I call you Harry?” The bear said with amusement filling his voice.

“I’d like that.” Harridan cuddled into the bear’s fur with a soft smile on his face. “Sleep well Tom.”

“And you as well Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any other fun folktale/fairytale references that they would like to see added (they don’t have to just be European!), mention them in the comment section and I’ll see if I can find a place to add them in during future chapters. (I’d really like to hear your ideas.) To know what tales I currently have planned to show up in upcoming chapters, be sure to read my tags. Mixed in up there are the ones I have picked out so far, they aren’t in any particular order.
> 
> Also I'd like a readers opinion, I was originally planning on making each chapter a full stand alone fairytale that would lead into the next chapter, rather than what I did here where I just posted where I felt like was a good stopping point. Which would you prefer? a full fairy tale that would take longer to write, or shorter quicker updates?
> 
> Edit:  
> I just updated the second half of this chapter. I was a bad writer and posted at 4 am without listening to that little voice in my head that told me to wait so that I could revise and edit. Bad Mira! Don't ignore your training as a copyeditor! D:
> 
> Also a note to those who have been so kind to be reading and commenting:  
> I'll be updating this again in the future, hopefully during my spring break, but if that doesn't happen it will sadly not be updated until the summer. This is because I'm in the final few years of my mulitple degrees. My major keeps me very busy.


	3. The Crystal Hart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes it's inspiration from:  
> The Glass Coffin :: Grimm’s fairy tale number 163  
> The Golden Stag :: A Romanian fairy tale.  
> Traditional oral folktelling  
> [So please don't mind Tom's wall's of dialogue.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer :: If I was J.K. Sirius and Remus would have been in each others pants. Also I make no claim on the fairy tales/folktales that are inspiring this fanfiction.
> 
> Warning :: No Beta | I broke so many modern grammer rules while writing this chapter
> 
> Also as a note :: I’m planning on writing many of these chapters based on the original tales, not based on the Disney adaptations. Though there may be some Disney-esque magic thrown in, the primary base will be from the original tales.

Wayward Stars

Chapter 3 :: Crystal Hart

* * *

 

            

               The warm sun cracking through the small holes of the barn woke Harridan up that morning. He, like every day that week, woke up without his friend by his side. Part of the boy wished that Tom as there, however the rational side of his brain knew that it was better that he wasn’t.

               Using his small hand he shielded his eyes from the bright light; then with a pause, it hit him. The morning sun had risen without him. He was late getting to work. A yell from the house instantly captured the boy’s attention. He quickly scrambled to his feet and ran towards the house; the cuff to the head that Lady Petunia gave him as he hurried through the door was nothing to what Lord Vernon would do to him because breakfast was late.

• • •

               That night, when Harridan returned to the barn he was barely recognizable. He sported a large contusion over his right eye, a split lip, and a large ugly bruise to his cheek. His already worn clothes were further tattered than they had been, and part of his left pant leg was missing, showing a large gash that was bleeding down his ankle from a dog bite. His shirt clung to his back, seeped in the blood from the lashes he received after dinner. His ribs ached, as did his right forearm. Harridan honestly wondered if something was broken this time.

               The child knew that his injuries would be gone in the morning, they always were, but it didn’t stop the pain as he managed to limp over to the door to the barn. Surprisingly, his friend was already waiting inside by a large warm fire.

               Harridan wondered how the bear had managed that, but said nothing as he approached the fire and sat down. He pulled his bloody shirt from his back and with a deep breath, a bit of concentration, and a flick of his hand the blood vanished. It wasn’t as if he needed to hide his freakishness –magic, it was magic, he reminded himself– around his friend anymore.

               Folding the shirt with care, he placed it against the hay and relined onto his stomach. While bruised and sore, his stomach was less likely to be as irritated by the hay, unlike the raw gashes on his back would.

               The barn remained quiet for a long time. Harridan stared blankly into the crackling fire, while Tom eyed the small child, who looked even smaller without the large shirt to swallow his form. “How often do they do that to you?” Tom spoke softly, just barely hiding the edge of anger in his voice. The child didn’t respond, instead he just stared blankly into the fire. “Harry…”

               “Enough…” Harridan replied just as quietly, however unlike Tom, a hint of pain could be heard in the whisper. “I mess up a lot… so I get punished. It’s my own fault.”

               “No, it’s not.” Green eyes drifted over to meet blue. “They expect far too much of someone so young. A five year old can’t handle as much as they are giving you.”

               “I’m seven.” Harridan corrected with frown. He knew he was small for his age, but for someone to think he was five was a bit much.  
  
               “Same argument. They expect far too much of you given your age. At my home, our servants aren’t expected to complete even as much as a third of your burdens, they are treated fairly. And they are just house elves.” Tom watched as Harridan opened his mouth to ask a question, but answered before the boy could speak, “A house elf is a creature that enjoys working and looking after others. They work for those who have magic and are quite dedicated.” He added the last statement as an afterthought.

               The crackle of the fire resonated in their comfortable silence; Harridan thought on what Tom said.

               What would it be like to not have to push himself as hard as the Dursley’s expected? And what was a magical home like? Would it be warm and cheerful? Would there be wondrous things happening all the time? Would there be someone who would care about someone like him?

               Shifting to his side, but being careful of his arm, Harry looked over to his friend. “Tom, what was your home like?”

               The look on his face made the bear want to melt. Harridan’s green eyes were filled with a sorrowful sort of longing, and his teeth were nibbling into his lower lip, with worry that he had asked something that he shouldn’t. “Harry, come lay with me,” he spoke gesturing his head towards his large form.

               Harridan did as he was asked, scooting carefully onto his side, atop of the bear.

               Once he felt the child settle Tom continued, “How about I tell you a story?” He spoke softly, nuzzling his nose into the child’s cheek.

               Harridan felt as though his heart would fall apart in his chest, tears fell freely, whether from the emotions running through his chest or the lingering pain he knew not, as he nodded, “No one has ever told me a story before.” His voice cracked.

               “Well then, we’ll have to fix that won’t we?” Tom replied with a kind, warmth to his voice.

               As the bear began to speak, Harridan listened intently, not wanting to miss a single thing. He didn’t even notice as his body stopped aching, as his back was healed, and as his bones stopped hurting.

               “Once upon a time there was young woman and a young man. The woman, Merope, had hair as dark night that went racing down her back, eyes like the bark of an oak tree, and skin as pale as moon. The man had a strong jaw, high cheek bones, and eyes like the depths of the ocean. The two were a beautiful pair. They lived in a far off village, in the land ruled by serpents. Merope was the youngest daughter of the serpent king, and was gifted with magic. The man, Thomas, was a tanner from the castle town, without a bit of magic to his name. Under normal circumstances, these two would most likely never meet. However, magic drew these two soulmates together and granted them eternal love —”

               “Oh! How did magic do that? Especially if Thomas didn’t have any?” Harry interrupted.

               Tom merely hushed the boy by nuzzling his large, wet nose into Harry’s cheek. “Well, if you would like to know, then you will just have to listen.”

               Harry quickly cuddled into Tom’s side, urging him to go on with his tale.

               The gravely noise of Tom clearing his throat, filled the barn for a moment. “One day the serpent king took his son and daughter with him as he traveled north, towards a neighboring kingdom, to meet with the ruler of the land of eagles. It was a long journey, so it was decided that each eve they would stop to rest at an inn.”

               “The serpent king’s daughter was curious by nature, and so at each town, she would sneak out during the eve to explore. Knowing his sister’s endless curiosity, Merope’s brother, Morfin, would follow Merope from the shadows in order to protect her.”

               “And each eve, Merope found a treasure, a token of her travels, to keep with her on her journey. She found simple items that, to a commoner, would seem insignificant, but a girl who rarely saw the world, would treasure.”

               “In the first stop was a small little farming town, just passed the large loch of the serpent’s fens; there she found a worn, leather thimble discarded on a small dirt road.”

               “The next town they came across was a fishing village, nestled on the inlet where the lands of the serpent and eagle kissed; she found an empty spool of thread carelessly resting beside the base of a tree.”

               “The third inn that they stayed at, was hidden deep within the forests of the highland, where most light did not reach through the treetops; there she found a needle sitting precariously on top of a fence post.”

               “Finally, in the last town they were to visit, the eve before they were to greet the ruler of the land of eagles, located upon the crystalline glens in the middle of the shadowed wood, she found a pair of clothing sheers forgotten near a meadow of sheep.”

               “With her final treasure in the small green cloth satchel she kept tied around her wrist, Merope returned up the path to the inn. During her walk, she heard the sweetest sound of a lyre.”

               The music entranced the girl and she followed it, away from the inn, and to a small, but very wealthy looking house. Noticing that the door was left ajar, she slipped inside of the home, and found a young man sitting and playing the lyre by a warm fire.”

               “The man tried to enchant Merope, offering her fantasies of eternal love, and riches beyond her dreams. He then asked her to become his wife.”

               A loud yawn broke the silence of the pause; Tom noticed that Harry was finally settling down, his own magic, soothing the child’s pains.

               “Morfin, having followed his sister, recognized that this man, who preached eternity to his sister, was using mind magic’s to ensnare her.”

               Tom smiled internally as he felt Harry’s small hand grip his fur, unease had gripped the boy’s heart as he listened to the ominous turns the tale began to take. Tom didn’t blame him for being worried. He had been as well when he had first heard the tale from his father.

               “Unwilling to let his dear sister fall for the devious man’s enchantment, he burst into the room and called out: “Sister! This man tells nothing more than lies!” As he ran towards the man, he drew his sword from its scabbard, sliced the cords of the lyre. Thus freeing his sister from the man’s spell.”  
  
               “Enraged by Morfin’s actions the man drew his wand and pointed it at the two siblings. He once more asked Merope to marry him, but she refused to fall for his trickery and denied him.”

               “Morfin lunged at the mage, tearing a deep gash into the mage’s chest with his blade. Yet, as the devious mage lay, slowly dying, on the floor of the cabin, he used his magic cursed the two siblings.”

               “Morfin, he turned into a golden stag, in the hopes that a hunter would kill him for his pelt, giving the mage his revenge.”

               “Merope’s curse was far crueler, for he spelled her into a death-like sleep, from which he hoped she would never awake. Forever alive, but never aware. From the broken pieces of his lyre he created a crystal coffin, which he levitated her into, her beauty to be forever seen, yet neither touched nor spoiled. Finally, with his dying breath he summoned a demon from the depths of the underworld, and bound him to the house, to forever guard his sleeping Merope.”

               “Even whilst trapped in the body of a stag, Morfin quickly reacted. Seeing Merope’s bag of treasures dropped on the ground from when she fell to the mage’s spell, he grabbed the bag in his teeth and ran into the night in search of help.”

• • •

               The morning had come quicker than Harridan would have liked, but he was happy to be awoken on time by Tom. Though he was disappointed that he had fallen asleep during the tale, Harridan supposed that was why people called them bedtime stories.

               Before wandering out for the day, Tom promised Harridan that he would tell him the rest of the tale that evening when he had finished his chores, but only after forcing Harridan to promise to take care not to stress what was left of his injuries. While both Harry’s and Tom’s magic’s, had helped heal his wounds during the night, not all of them were closed, and would be quite tender.

               As he worked, Harridan let his thoughts drift back to the story that Tom had told him. He let his mind create vivid images to accompany the story he was told. Of a lovely, yet curious, young woman wandering down dirt paths of many towns. Towns that he could envision clearly in his mind, as if he had once been there himself.  Only to be ensnared by a mage, with dastardly intentions.

               It tickled something in the back of his mind, but the small child brushed it off, in favor of continuing his work. After all, the sooner he finished, the sooner he could hear the rest of Tom’s tale.

               And that eve, once the two companions had settled down to rest, hear it he did.

• • •

               “Now, where were we-” Tom mused, as the light crunch of the fire eating at wood filled the otherwise quiet barn.

               “Morfin had just escaped the mage! And Merope was being guarded by a daemon!” Harry cheered.

               With a small nudge of his nose into the boy’s cheek, Tom signaled Harry to settle down. “That’s right. And do you know what will happen next?” He teased.

               Harry simply shook his head.

               Tom’s teeth were bared and Harry could only think that the bear was trying to grin. “Then you’ll have to be good and let me tell you then, won’t you?”

               Harry’s bravado deflated at that, and the child firmly settled down, cuddling into Tom’s fury hide. He really wanted to hear the tale to its end.

               “Now then, Morfin had run off into the night, with Merope’s bag of treasures held tightly in his maw.”

               “Now while, he was skilled with his blade, Morfin, and his sister were both gifted with magic. And despite being trapped in the form of a golden stag, Morfin was still able to grasp his magic and wish. Now wish magic can be a powerful type of magic, one that is chaotic and comes in unexpected ways.”

               Harry smiled at that, as he thought of how it must have been his magic then that answered his wish for a companion and brought Tom to him. If it did indeed work in unexpected ways.

               His own thoughts surprised him, as only a few nights previous had he still been thinking that his gift was something to be condemned.

               Maybe, if it could indeed produce such miracles, magic wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Maybe Tom was right. Maybe he was a bird, and the Dursleys just envied his wings?

               “Morfin’s wish to save his sister, but selflessly not caring for what happened to himself, was rewarded. The bag in his maw began to glow a soft gold, like his fur. And while without hands to see what had happened, Morfin knew in his heart that he would be able to save his sister.”

               “And so Morfin began his search.”

               “What was he searching for?” Harry interjected.

               “Someone who could wake his sister, of course.” Tom answered, once again nuzzling his nose into Harry’s cheek to quiet the boy.

               “Morfin went from town to town in order to find someone who would approach him without ill. There were many who would have loved to kill him now for his beautiful golden coat. However, the few that did, did not understand the treasures inside of the pouch that he held.”

               “And so he traveled on. Until one day, he found his way back to his home in the land of the Serpent.”

               “Morfin had missed his home greatly. So, in the dead of night he wandered, just as his sister once did, without a goal or plan in mind. He just let his feet guide him this way and that. Until he came across the home of the local tanner.”

               “Curious as to why he had found his way to this particular residence, Morfin slipped up to the nearest window. There he saw a young man, hard at work. Preparing a wolf pelt to be made into a garment. His fingers were deft as he worked the underside of the skin, cleaning it to be sewn.”

               “There was a serene look on the lad’s face as he finished the cleaning of the skin. But what caught Morfin’s attention was not the man’s skill, but what he spoke of as he worked. “I do hope that when dear Merope returns that she will be happy to be warmed by this pelt when the winter chill comes upon us. For while she would never wed a simple tanner, her beauty and wit are beyond compare. I do miss her visits so.” He spoke to himself, running his fingers along the finished fur.”

               “It was in that moment that Morfin realized who this man was. For often, when they were young, Merope would recount to him stories of a boy she had met in town, who would tell her stories, and keep her company while she wandered.”

               “Morfin had teased her at times, not to fall in love with him, as he was a commoner. However, Merope always would jest in return, that she would not be so careless, as to throw away her heart to someone whom had not earned it.”

               “But even while she would jest, Morfin knew that her words were bitter, and that his sister truly had feelings for the lad she had met. Yet, she would never reveal to Morfin whom the boy was, out of worry for what might happen to him.”

               Heart aching for poor Merope, Harry understood. It was looked down upon for one to marry below their station. For a princess like Merope to fall in love with a commoner, was damnation. It was possible that, were her family to find out, that the man would be killed, or she herself could be disowned or immediately sold off and forced to marry another; pushed into a loveless marriage.

               “Morfin approached the man’s door softly, and even softer still, did he knock one hoof against the door.”

               “Just as he was going to knock a second time, the door swung open, and there stood Thomas. He was not much to look at for the time, his hair ragged and unkempt from the late hour, stubble smattered over his chin, he was dressed in his working clothes, and as was the dirty work of a tanner, smelled like piss. Most likely from the skins hanging behind his home. Morfin had to keep from grimacing from the terrible stink that invaded his sensitive animal senses.”

               Harry cringed at the image his mind provided him with.  
  
               “Thomas greeted Morfin kindly, despite being surprised by the presence of a stag at his home.” Here Tom paused and chuckled. “Much like how you were willing to greet me.” He added before continuing, “Like with others he had met, Morfin presented Thomas with the bag, and with a gasp, he took it, recognizing it as a gift he had given to Merope.”

               “As he reached into the bag he withdrew from it four items. The first was a sturdy, thick, golden, leather thimble. Second, he withdrew a large spool filled with a thick thread that seemed to be made of gold. The third item was a strong golden needle, which could pierce the sturdiest of hides. And finally, he withdrew a pair of golden sheers, so delicate and sharp that it could clean so very close to an animal’s hide, yet never break the skin.”

               “At that moment, Thomas knew that he was needed for something grand. “This purse belonged to my beloved Merope, is she in danger?” he asked, already knowing the answer. To his surprise the stag answered him with a nod, and beckoned for Thomas to follow. Carefully he stowed the golden items away and placed the bag in his pocket. “Should I pack to travel?” he asked, and received a nod from the stag. “How many days journey is it?” The stag stopped its foot five times, to signify the days. “I’ll be just a moment.” With that, Thomas quickly changed into traveling clothing and packed a bag to take with him, taking only the essentials.”

               “He took with him a small coin purse, a change of clothes, his bow and a quiver of arrows, two loafs of bread, a bit of meat, and a skin of water. As he made his way to the door, his eyes locked onto the large wolf pelt he had ready to craft into a fine cloak. Without a second thought, Thomas grabbed it to take along with. He then packed his horse and motioned for the stag to guide him.”

               “The two raced along the country side only stopping for short rests and to camp in the eve. They journeyed through the deep forests of the land of the eagle, in order to reach the village, where Merope had seen her last ray of moonlight.”

               “The small house where he had been cursed, it was in even more disrepair than last Morfin had seen it. The brick was now covered in a layer of soft green mold from the weather battling against the exterior brick, but no one to keep it in check, and the yard was filled with weeds.”

               “Carefully, Thomas approached the house, and peered inside the window. There in the sitting room, was Merope ensnared within the glass coffin. And sitting near her was the demon. Watching the beautiful girl as if she were a priceless trophy he had won.”

               “Thomas backed away before the demon could spot him. Returning to where the stag stood. “Now how to get passed him…” Thomas pondered aloud as ideas raced through his head.”

               “The tanner had heard that demons were quite vain creatures. Flattery, could be the weapon he needed against such a creature.”

               “And with that in mind he set to work. He went into the town, and purchased three rabbit skins, four raccoon pelts, and two yards of different colored fabrics of varying quality.”

               “From them, and his own tools, he crafted two cloaks. The first, he made of raccoon, and medium-weight brown earthen wool, it would keep one warm in the harshest winter, but was not as elegant to the appearance; made with a hunter in mind. The second cloak was made of rabbit and thick dark purple wool, it was far more pleasing to the eye, but possibly a bit too feminine for the demon. Thomas wondered if those two alone would be enough to sway the Demon.”

               “Then out of the corner of his vision, his eyes caught sight of the wolf pelt and fabric he had intended to use to make a cloak for Merope. With a hefty sigh, Thomas gathered it up; he knew he would need to use it to save his love. Yet when he settled down and reached for his needle, he found that it was too dulled to make the intricate work needed for what he had intended. He wondered if he had a spare.”

               “But he has the golden needle!” Harry nearly shouted. His increasing excitement at the suspense of the tale had boiled over. Tom paid it no mind and continued.

               “Remembering the bag of magical items, Thomas quickly set back to work as if the heavens themselves were guiding him. He used each golden item from the bag to complete his work. The shears he used to cut and shape the materials, the thimble to keep his fingers from faltering. And the needle to guide the golden thread through it all, bringing it together with embroidery beyond compare.”

               “When it was complete the black wolf pelt was wound together with the heavy green fabric, and lined in silk. Its edges were covered in beautiful golden embroideries of snakes twisting with ivy. The cloak was neither masculine nor overtly feminine, but right in-between. It was indeed Thomas’ greatest masterpiece.”  
  
               “After spending an evening to rest, the two returned to the cottage, Thomas leaving his horse tied to a tree some distance away for the time being. Thomas had explained his plan to the stag, and Morfin had thought that it indeed had good merit to work. They would just need to act quickly.”

               “Thomas approached the cottage alone, Morfin, waiting a fair bit away, hiding for when he was needed.”

               “The demon opened the door and immediately demanded the reason Thomas was disturbing him. “I have come to pay homage to such a great and powerful being such as yourself.” He replied, “As I was passing through the townsfolk told me of you, and I knew I must come and pay proper tribute before I continue on my way.” He then explained to the demon that he had just finished his apprenticeship as a tanner, and was traveling to the castle town of the queen so that he could set up his own shop there. The demon asked to see the lad’s wares as to judge his work for himself.”

               “First the demon tried on the cloak made of raccoon, but swiftly pulled it off again, complaining that it was too rough and plain for a creatures such as himself. Quickly, Thomas gave him the rabbit cloak instead. After trying it on the demon replied, “Comfortable, however far too garish and feminine, do you have anything else?” At that, Thomas gave the demon the cloak he had intended for Merope, and after trying it on for more than a moment the demon gave a heavy sigh and turned to Thomas. “This one is indeed well made and so very wonderfully detailed, however I see that it is just a bit too small for me. Would you by chance be able to make something else for me, of the same fine quality as this?” he asked, appearing melancholy as he returned the final cloak to Thomas.”

               “Thomas had the demon right where he wanted him. “I could indeed sir, I could make you anything you desire sir.” The demon brightened up at this and looked out the window and saw near the forest edge was a golden stag eating grass contently. “Then I request for you to make me a beautiful garment from the hide of the golden stag that lives in these woods.” Thomas appeared to look confused and bewildered. “I would if I could sir, you see while I am fairly skilled with a hide, I am no hunter myself. I would be unable to catch the stag that you seek. However, if one such as yourself were to catch the creature, I’d be able to make you your cloak this very evening.” The demon appeared torn for moment, before quickly agreeing to Thomas’ terms. He left the cottage after the creature, forgetting all about the girl he was meant to be guarding.”

               “While the demon was away Thomas quickly set about opening the glass coffin, and as if by magic, as it were, Merope’s eyes shot open with a gasp, the moment that Thomas threw open the lid. “What happened?” she inquired, “We have to move quickly before the demon returns.” Thomas replied quickly.”

               “Unlike, Thomas however, Merope knew how to deal with a demon. From her sleeve she withdrew her short, yet petite wand and walked to where she had seen the mage who had imprisoned her fall, there, burned into the floorboards, was the engraved mark of the demon he summoned. Quickly, Merope banished the mark, thus dispelling the demon.”

               “Thomas gathered the green cloak from the floor and gathered it around Merope, smiling at her as she told him the demon was no more.”

               “The two left the cottage, and found Morfin approaching them from the woods. Merope quickly undid the spell on her brother, and took Thomas with them as they went to join again with their Father, who had continued on to meet with the Queen of the Land of the Eagle. He had grieved the moment he had arrived there, having thought his children had been kidnapped by enemies of his kingdom.”

               “He was so happy his children were safe, and once he had heard their tale, he proposed to have Thomas and Merope wed as soon as they returned home. From then on, Thomas was allowed to learn of magic, and of our world, as well as wed the woman he loved.”

               “And that Harry, ends the story of how my parents met one another.” Tomas concluded as he nuzzled a bit more hay around the near dozing child.

               The embers of their small fire had long grown cold, but the chill had been kept away from the child’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, guess who's still alive!  
> I know it's been a while since my last update on this fic, however, please know that it's not abandoned.  
> Last fall I fell victim to an accident at my old work place, which left me with a pretty bad head injury.  
> It's taken me a while to feel even slightly confident in my writing again, and it is still taking me twice as long to type than it used to, which is the reason for the delay.  
> So please if you see something I missed please point it out to me!  
> I hope that you will all enjoy this installment.
> 
> The theme for the next chapter is: Three Impossible Things.
> 
> There are just three chapters left until the first story arc of is completed.  
> There are currently three arcs total which I have planned out.  
> The first is the Cinderella arc. The second is the Rapunzel arc. And finally I have the Sleeping Beauty arc.  
> All of these big arcs will have other smaller stories within them, a you've hopefully noticed. So don't worry if the arc names seem off putting, those are just the big theme, though not always how you expect.
> 
> There is a good chance that the next chapter won't be posted until next summer, as I'll finally be graduating from Uni, in the spring. And am currently spending a semseter in England, so I'll be spending most of my time here exploring and researching for my senior project.
> 
> Also!
> 
> If anyone has any other fun folktale/fairytale references that they would like to see added (they don’t have to just be European!), mention them in the comment section and I’ll see if I can find a place to add them in during future chapters. (I’d really like to hear your ideas.) To know what tales I currently have planned to show up in upcoming chapters, be sure to read my tags. Mixed in up there are the ones I have picked out so far, they aren’t in any particular order.


End file.
